Big My Secret
by Cactus101
Summary: Dean returns from Hell but he's not alone.
1. Back Where You Belong

Big My Secret

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. Discovered the show by accident a few months ago and was fascinated by the story of the two brothers. This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

He'd been back 24 hours and Dean had already bagged his first lie to Sammy. Told him he didn't remember a thing, said it without flinching, without a drop of remorse or regret, thinking Sammy's probably already done the same; lied through his teeth about bringing him back and something else Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. He wasn't making this a tit for a tat thing. It was just that he couldn't bring himself to talk about it, couldn't bear to let the words slip past his lips, making everything more real than it already was. Truth was Dean couldn't remember everything but that voice in his head – _it -_ wouldn't let him forget.

Dean sat on Sam's bed. He fingered the bedspread lightly, relishing the feel of the fabric on his skin, rediscovering a long forgotten sensation. Eventually, Dean pulled himself out of his reverie and looked up at his brother and Bobby and tried to discern what they were saying but their voices sounded so distant and their words couldn't cut through the humming sound in his ears. Dean didn't know what happened at that gas station but his hearing hadn't been so good since that high pitched screech almost blew out his ear drums. Then that voice started up in his brain; the voice he would recognize anywhere and he tried to figure out how he was going to block it out along with the screams of pain and howls of despair. He wondered if he was ever going to white wash the images of blood and flesh and bone seared into his brain. He wondered if he would ever be able to scrub his flesh clean of the evil and the madness. _Tsk, tsk, so many questions, my dear boy._

Dean couldn't really remember how he got out. Not out of the pine box and above ground, but how he got away from _there_. That was not so clear and all he had to show for it was a hand print on his shoulder and a fleeting memory of flashing, bright lights and a jumble of wings. Yeah, wings. Maybe, he flew out like a bird. Maybe, he was plucked out by a Phoenix. Wasn't that the bird that rose from the ashes? The thought triggered the sensation of hot, hell stinking embers filling his mouth and Dean thought it served him right for lying to Sam. _You can take the boy outta hell but you can't take hell out of the boy._

Dean coughed and gagged hoarsely and Bobby immediately shot him a worried look causing the young hunter to turn away and hide his discomfort and guilt. The coughing refused to abate and Sam magically materialized at his side with a glass of water. Dean grabbed it and gulped down the cooling liquid, dribbling half of it down his chin like a two year old. The water dissolved the ashes in his mouth and Dean nearly choked with the belief that black liquid was swimming down his throat. Another involuntary gag and Dean's hand flew up, roughly covering his lips, fighting back the return of ash water into his mouth. This earned him a pair of concerned looks as he hurried to the washroom and slammed the door behind him before allowing a gush of evil to splash into the white porcelain sink.

Dean blinked rapidly as he stared at what he was spewing. His breaths came harshly and a string of dirty saliva hung loosely from his mouth. He swiped it away, scrubbing the back of his hand across his sleeve, removing all evidence of the offending goo. He looked up at his image in the grimy mirror. His eyes were horrified at what he saw reflected back - the face of evil. He couldn't stand to look at his image knowing what he had done. _Now, now my pretty, don't fret, you'll always be my favourite_.

Dean's hand whipped up and smashed the offending likeness. He lowered his gaze in disgust and twirled the tap, allowing the water to rinse the grey sop down the drain. He cupped his hand, filled his palm with the clear liquid and rinsed the vile taste out of his mouth. Dean held onto the side of the sink and tried to quell the feeling of dread rising from the pit of his stomach. He stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, but he knew that mere seconds could feel like forever.

Sam pounded on the door, shouting out his name and Dean thought bitterly that his brother was calling out to some other Dean, to a brother who no longer existed, one that died somewhere between being torn apart by hell hounds and rising through the earth in that pulverized field.

The bathroom door swung open violently, crashing loudly against the opposing wall. Dean stared at his brother standing on the other side of the threshold, fists clenched and muscles taut, ready to pounce. Sam's eyes were huge and filled with a fear that Dean was no longer inside the bathroom; that his big brother was gone, ripped away from him again.

Everything went quiet. The only sounds Dean could make out were Sam's rough breaths and the cackling laugh in his own head. And then he was struck with an awful realization that _he_ was laughing because this was all a cruel joke and _he _was toying with him, waiting for the right moment to pull open some door and shove him right back down into the depths of hell.

Dean grabbed the sink and hunched over it to steady himself against the feel of the tremors running through his body. The tremors he had endured for 40 years, the ones that ripped at him relentlessly and never abated no matter which side of the rack you were on. The tremors that served to remind you that you were nothing but a quivering mass of flesh.

Dean's throat closed tight and his breathing became uneven and harsh and he felt stupid for thinking he could have escaped from _him_. He turned to Bobby and then back to Sam; he couldn't get the words out but he wanted to tell them he was sorry for coming back, wanted to tell them he should have known better, wanted them to know he was doomed and there was nothing they could do to change that and it would just be a matter of time before he ended up back in Hell, back where he belonged.

TBC...


	2. All Roads Lead Back to Me

Big My Secret

Chapter 2 – All Roads Lead Back to Me.

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. Discovered the show by accident a few months ago and was fascinated by the story of the two brothers. This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

Dean shot out of the claustrophobic motel room leaving a stunned Sam and Bobby in his wake. He pushed the glass door leading to the outside world and frantically inhaled a lungful of earth air to replace the stench of hellfire which had invaded his nostrils. Sam ran after him but Dean ignored his brother's pleas to stop. One thought kept slamming into his brain. _All roads lead back to me, my little pup._

Dean forged onwards and avoided the stares of the passer-by's. He felt like their eyes could bore through him and see who he was and what he had done. A troubling suspicion grew in Dean's mind. What if these weren't humans but demons waiting to jump him and drag him back to hell or souls he had tortured biding their time until they could get their revenge? Dean's chest constricted and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs because if he was right, he was surrounded and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

Dean quickened his steps. Between desperate gasps he searched his jacket for a knife or a weapon or holy water, anything that could give him a semblance of protection. Just then, Sam caught up to Dean, gripped his arm and spun him around, questioning him on what was wrong. Instinctively Dean pawed at Sam, hoping his brother would have what he was urgently looking for. He pulled Sam closer, hands moving wildly over his brother's form and that's when he smelled it, again. The odour Dean hadn't been able to pinpoint when _she_ opened the door to his brother's motel room. The stench he hadn't recognized until now because everything smelled different in the pit. But there was no mistaking it; it was demon and it was wrapped all over Sammy just like that _bitch_ must have been.

Dean let go of his brother, his eyes widening in disbelief and shock, certain now of Sam's betrayal. _Told ya not the trust Sammy boy. _The terrified hunter stumbled backwards as he jerked his arms out of his brother's grip. Dean's mind was reeling; everything he thought he knew was upside down and inside out. He didn't know who to trust or if he could trust his own instincts. How could he not have known about that _bitch_ as soon as he stepped into that motel room?

Dean felt trapped. Everything and everyone was closing in on him, bringing him closer to getting back to the place he dreaded and so he turned and ran. He ran blindly and without thinking. He ran past stunned faces and cursing drivers, past shops and homes, through intersections and red lights. He tried to run away from the reek of rotting flesh and the taste of warm blood and innards, from the odour of burning skin and the sensation of razor blades and claws tearing out tissue. Away from the hopelessness and isolation and aloneness, away from never knowing any comfort or love or safety for the past 40 years, away from the brother chasing him and calling out his name, away from the brother he trusted and who hooked up with what he despised most. He tried to run from the taunting voice in his head, away from himself, away from who he had become and what he had done. But it was all in vain because these things he could not escape, these things he could never forget and these things he would never be able to erase.

It felt like Dean had run for hours and yet he made no headway in escaping these fears. His lungs burned from the effort and the lack of oxygen and his eyes leaked tears but there was no sadness behind them only despair. Dean stumbled into a deserted park, panting furiously but still moving forward and never once looking behind. The exhausted hunter couldn't seem to catch his breath and he had to stop when his vision blurred and a wave of dizziness slammed into him. He leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees to prevent himself from falling over.

Amongst the stillness of the outside world he felt a low growl rising from the depths of the earth. He felt it rising in his bones, he felt it filling his veins and he heard it calling his name, _well, well my pet, we meet again. _Dean froze in horror; _he_ was coming for him.

An earth splitting sound resounded inside his head and Dean's hands automatically shot up to cover his ears. Nearby pigeons surged wildly into the air, wings thundering frantically, whirling all around, trapping Dean within a frenzied kaleidoscope of pulsating sunlight. He was hit by the troubling realization that unlike the birds, he was tethered to this earth; unable to escape the trap he knew was opening up beneath him. Dean's breaths strained harshly against the constraints of his lungs and throat. His eyes flitted crazily and his head tilted back, sight skyward desperately searching for something, for someone to pull him up, to save him once again.

Dean tried to escape this impending doom. _Where do you think you're going, pup? _But Dean's insides turned to stone and his limbs tensed stiffly robbing him of the ability to flee. _On your knees, boy. _His unbending legs suddenly folded beneath him, driving his knees into the ground, compelling him to look down at the earth, to stare at this barrier a thousand miles deep and yet offering no protection, no safety against his plummet back to hell.

Windswept murmurings from below hissed out in a familiar voice, _that's my boy, come home to daddy._ Dean's strangled screams were unable to slip by his gritted teeth and punctured lips. His arms locked reflexively as he tried to brace against the ground rushing up to swallow him as an invisible force pulled him down. The terrified hunter closed his eyes against the seemingly endless free fall which was halted when he finally hit solid earth. Dean was rendered boneless, heartless and empty and he felt no relief lying on the wet turf, lying on the outside of his grave, on the other side of hell.

Sam watched helplessly as his brother toppled forward. The young hunter ran as fast as he could to where Dean lay motionless and came to a skidding halt, falling roughly to his knees beside his brother. Sam tentatively took hold of Dean's jacket and turned his brother's unresisting body over. He was taken aback by the look of abject fear in Dean's eyes and the sawing breaths wheezing painfully in and out of his older brother. Sam stuttered words of comfort as he visually inspected his brother for injuries and tried to swallow the lump of fear lodged in his own throat. His eyes were drawn back to Dean's expression and he watched it transform from fear to panic. Sam tried to calm his older brother, his lifelong protector, his only family and true friend but his words went unheard. The young man pulled Dean's trembling form towards him but the older hunter resisted. Dean tried to scrabble away, clawing desperately against the hands holding him down, the hands of his captor, from the one who would send him back _there, _who would return him to his_ torturer_.

Sam couldn't seem to get through to his brother and he struggled to keep Dean from hurting himself. "Dean, it's me… Sam…Sammy." His words had no impact on the frightened hunter. "Dean…what is it? Can you hear me? Dean, what's wrong?" But, Sam's efforts proved futile and Dean continued to fight against the strong arms that gripped him tightly and wouldn't allow him to get away.

Dean was certain he could feel the heat of the fires coming up through the ground below him, the fires that would engulf and consume him, the fires that would burn his skin and sear his eyes. He could smell the putrid smell of blood and flesh and insides burning. He could taste the vileness of urine and vomit and stomach acid and Dean knew how this story would end. He knew because _Alistair_ told him so and _Alistair_ had never lied to him. Inevitably, Dean knew he was on his way back to hell. _Hah, just like the prodigal son, my boy. _Inevitable because _he _promised to get his _favourite student_ back and because Dean knew, oh so well, that _Alistair_ always got what he wanted. And with that final realization Dean released a cry from the depths of his soul, a scream so primal, so piercing, so frightening that Sam let go of his brother and the younger hunter knew this was a sound he would never forget as long as he lived.

TBC...


	3. An Eerie Silence

Big My Secret

Chapter 3 – An eerie silence

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. Discovered the show by accident a few months ago and was fascinated by the story of the two brothers. This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

Sam stood panting, struggling to recover his breath after carrying his brother up the stairs and into the room. The initial elation of getting his brother back had been replaced by an unshakable dread lodged deep in the pit of the young hunter's stomach. Sam pushed his sweat soaked bangs over his forehead before reluctantly looking down at Dean's unconscious form as it lay splayed across the unmade bed. He tried to tell himself that his brother didn't look so bad except for the blood and dirt and the way his limbs jutted out haphazardly like a raggedy Anne doll. Otherwise, you could almost make a case that Dean was asleep.

It was ironic that just as Sam was allowing unspeakable fears to twist and churn in his gut, his brother's face was devoid of emotion. The younger Winchester instinctively laid his hand across Dean's chest and felt the steady beats of his heart before allowing a sigh of release. He leaned forward and placed Dean's arms and legs in more natural positions.

Bobby returned from the bathroom holding a facecloth in one hand and an ice bucket filled with water in the other. His grizzled features couldn't mask his concern at the sight of the motionless man on the bed. Sam avoided his gaze, pursed his lips into a thin line like he was trying to hold everything in and shouldered past him before slumping down heavily on the sofa. It was clear Sam was still in avoidance mode and the look on the young man's face reminded Bobby of Dean's best 'I'm not talking' pout. It tugged at his chest that it wasn't Dean's familiar face reflecting that look back at him.

Bobby began to wipe the blood and dirt from the unconscious hunter's face and noticed a large bruise beginning to form on Dean's jaw where he assumed, from Sam's guilty looks, he had hit him. Bobby's ministrations were slow and deliberate and it did not escape Sam's observant gaze how the older hunter's hand lingered on Dean's cheek and forehead in an attempt to comfort the unconscious man knowing that it would be impossible to show this much affection had his brother had been alert. Sam had always known Dean was Bobby's favourite and it was only fair since he knew he was Dad's.

A heavy silence hung in the room and each passing minute was filled with more questions and unspeakable fears. Bobby had been just as surprised as Sam when Dean ran out of the hotel room like he had been shot from a cannon. The older man had wanted to follow but decided three was a crowd and certainly Sam could handle his brother. Later, when the younger brother called hardly able to get the words out to tell Bobby to come pick them up, he wasn't so sure it had been the right thing to do. The older hunter found them in a park on the edge of town with Sam cradling an unconscious and bloody Dean. The ride back was uncharacteristically quiet as Sam refused to talk or answer Bobby's questions, just sat in the back seat, staring out the window while holding on to Dean. Bobby could have sworn Sam didn't want to look at his brother.

The older man could feel the pressure of not knowing what they were dealing with build up in his gut. He had held out as long as possible, allowing Sam to process his thoughts and feelings about what had happened but it was now time to deal with this situation.

"Sam," Bobby called out. He got no reaction. "Sam," this time it was a warning. The young man turned his head quickly and Bobby saw the unguarded look of confusion and worry and the older hunter cringed at his tone which reminded him of John's best demanding voice.

If Sam heard it, he didn't let on. The younger Winchester was lost in his thoughts, replaying the scene in the park over and over again as he tried to pinpoint when it all started to go wrong. He snorted in derision at the stupidity of that thought. 'Yeah, when exactly did things start to go wrong? Was it when the hell hounds ripped his brother apart and dragged him to Hell? Was it when Dean made that deal with the crossroads demon? Was it when Roy Le Grange saved his dying brother while sacrificing another human? When exactly did things start to go wrong?'

"What happened?" Bobby asked more evenly.

Sam looked down at the floor and guiltily bit at his fingernails. He didn't know how to begin to answer Bobby's question. He didn't know how to voice what he had witnessed and he was afraid, afraid he had done something to bring this on, afraid he had messed up and now his brother was paying for his mistake once again.

Sam rubbed his eyes, needing to erase the memory of Dean's horrified face. He moved over to the window, pulled back the curtain and stared out into nothing. With his back to his brother and Bobby, he was finally able to get a coherent sentence out. "I've never seen him like that, Bobby." The older hunter could practically see Sam wilting underneath the weight of these words. " He was..." Sam's voice was a mere whisper, "he was scared." It felt like he had betrayed his brother's trust by confiding this fact to Bobby.

"Scared of what?" Bobby asked not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Sam shrugged apologetically and turned away from Bobby's gaze. "There was nothing there...nothing I could see." And the young hunter felt a pang of guilt and wondered if he or Ruby had anything to do with this.

"Did he say anything?" Bobby asked as he continued to tend to Dean. Sam just shook his head in resignation. "He seemed fine until then," Bobby uttered, trying to convince himself more than stating a fact.

Sam closed his eyes in frustration. "He came back from Hell, Bobby. How would we know if he was fine?"

Bobby didn't have an answer to that. He had read everything he could on Hell but hadn't found any literature about anyone getting out. This whole thing was a mystery to him and he knew he needed help. "I could call a psychic I know. Maybe she can tell us something." "Bobby added, but his words lacked confidence.

Sam nodded worriedly. He was not looking forward to Dean waking up if it meant his brother would freak out again. The younger Winchester made his way to Bobby and extended his hand, gesturing for the facecloth. "I'll do that. Call your contact."

Bobby let Sam take over but not before patting Dean's chest protectively and whispering, "I'll be right here kiddo." The older hunter pulled out his phone and made his call while Sam seemed mesmerized by the act of wringing the water out of the white cloth. A few minutes later, Bobby turned to Sam, "She'll be here tomorrow."

Sam stared at his bruised knuckles wondering what he would have to do to keep Dean here until then.

A shrill ring broke the silence. Sam rose, walked over to the nearby chair and pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket. He stared at it in confusion and then looked at Bobby.

"It's not mine," Sam said.

Bobby stared at the phone in his hand but it was obvious it wasn't his either. Sam spun on his heels, strode over to the duffle bag on the floor and rummaged through it frantically until he came up with another phone. Sam eyed it suspiciously and Bobby understood this was Dean's old phone.

Caller unknown flashed on the screen to the beat of the rings. Sam looked back at his brother who hadn't stirred and fingered the phone hesitantly as he answered the call. "Hello."

Bobby stopped all movements and watched Sam intently.

"Hello," Sam repeated hoping this was just a wrong number.

"Dean?" It was the voice of a young boy. An eerie silence followed.

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and verified the caller id once more - caller unknown blinked back at him. "Who is this?" Sam barked menacingly.

"Tell Dean...its Billy," the boy requested ominously and then hung up.

TBC...


	4. Sacred Ground

Big My Secret

Chapter 4 – Sacred Ground

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. Discovered the show by accident a few months ago and was fascinated by the story of the two brothers. This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

"Who was it?" Bobby demanded.

Sam fidgeted with Dean's phone and stared down at the screen once more before he rubbed his temple and closed his eyes.

"Who was it?" Bobby questioned once again and wondered whether Sam knew more than he was letting on. The experienced hunter decided to push his suspicions aside and instead placed a consoling hand on the young man's shoulder. Bobby felt the tension easing slightly in the youngest Winchester and knew he had taken the right approach.

"I don't know. It was some kid asking for Dean." Sam's voice sounded hoarse like he had been screaming on the inside.

Bobby's forehead creased questioningly, "Kid? What did he say?"

"Nothing," Sam fretted, "he just wanted me to tell Dean he called."

Bobby squeezed Sam's shoulder urging him to continue but the tension returned and Sam's face melted into guilt and worry as he turned and stared at his brother.

"We can't tell him, Bobby. He can't know about this." Sam began to tear around the room picking up his things and flinging them into his bag. Everything inside of Sam was screaming for them to get out of this room, hit the road and find a safe place to lay low. "We need to go." Sam huffed without looking at the older man and Bobby knew the kid was right. Everything felt off, even the air seemed heavy, wrong, cursed. That was it, cursed. Bobby nodded and they gathered their things, managed to haul Dean out to the Impala and hit the road.

Sam drove and Bobby sat in the back with Dean cushioned against him. The only sound was the tires hissing over the black top. Bobby stared at Dean and looked up at Sam who was clenching the hell out of the steering wheel. Poor kid was clearly worried and scared and Bobby wished there was something he could do to make it better but he was in no better shape himself. Bobby couldn't imagine what had happened between the time Dean showed up at this house and the reunion in the motel room that turned sour. Dean had seemed fine, his old self until...

A barely audible moan made its way up to Bobby.

"Dean." The older hunter murmured soothingly and lightly pushed back the young man's not so spiky hair. There was nothing but concern in the Bobby's heart for this man he thought of as his own.

Dean felt calloused fingers scraping lightly over his forehead. He struggled to recall the meaning behind this sensation. Bobby watched intently as Dean's eyes fluttered and his lips twitched and frowned deeply as if he was trying to figure something out.

Something about this was so familiar to Dean but his mind was still mired in mud and fog and it took a while for a memory to surface. A memory that was faded and distant like a dream you can hardly recall. It was a disjointed remembrance, made up of snippets of images and impressions. Of early morning car rides, of a leather coat, of eyes heavy for sleep, of warmth and safety and feeling grounded by a large hand resting protectively on his head, of the smell of engine oil and lighter fluid, of the Impala and his Dad and home and more than anything else, Dean wanted this to be real and he tried to call out to his father.

"Da," was all he could manage to rasp out from the back of his throat and over his sluggish tongue. He tried to swallow and was rewarded with the taste of metal, the taste of his own blood, the taste of _there._ _What?_ _No more blood pudding pup? _

And the feeling of safety was obliterated from the young hunter's mind and his body jackknifed, one hand clamped defensively around Bobby's wrist and the other gripping the back of the seat in front of him.

Sam jumped at the sudden movement and veered the car sharply to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. Dean's eyes flitted unfocused and disoriented and Bobby tried to calm the frightened man even though his own heart was racing.

"Sh...sh...Dean, it's okay. You're okay, son. You're safe. I'm with you. Sam's here too." And Bobby looked up at the youngest Winchester and saw the horrified look in his face. Dean's breathing hitched and he turned in the direction of Bobby's voice, his fingers curling around the older man's wrist like he was trying hang on to something familiar. Bobby took this as a signal that Dean was coming out of whatever nightmare he was caught in and tentatively placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, unknowingly over the imprint.

The heat from Bobby's hand permeated through the fabric of Dean's shirt and into his raised skin and it awakened the dizzying sense of soaring up from a bottomless pit. The young man closed his eyes tightly, tilted his head back and took a huge gulping breath then covered Bobby's hand with his own and the older man instinctively understood and pressed down hard until he heard Dean's breathing deepen.

"I gotcha," Bobby murmured and Dean slumped back against the seat, holding Bobby's hand securely against his shoulder.

"That's it." Bobby instructed. "Slow deep breaths, nice 'n easy." Bobby exaggerated his own breathing until Dean was able to follow his cadence.

"Bobby," Dean rasped.

"You with me boy?" Bobby asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice and continued to grip Dean's shoulder. Whether Dean flinched or tried to nod Bobby couldn't say but he saw the movement as a sign that Dean was aware of his surroundings.

"Don't let go…" Dean inhaled nervously.

"I won't," he tried to reassure Dean. "I won't let go." The older hunter's features lined with worry and then looked to Sam for help but the youngest Winchester was plastered against the car door, hand at the ready on the door handle unable or unwilling to come closer.

"I…don't…" Dean stuttered and his head tipped forward, eyes closed against the world. "Don't," he inhaled shakily, "don't let...me fall," he finished in a mere whisper, fingers locked onto Bobby's wrist.

"I won't…I gotcha." Bobby tried to pull Dean towards him but the young hunter resisted and his eyes shot open at the movement.

"Don't…let me fall." Dean huffed breathlessly.

And, Bobby noticed the darkness in the young man's eyes, as if the green had been leeched out by something vastly evil and he finally understood why Sam had been so shook up earlier.

"Christo," Bobby barked, eyes narrowed and observing Dean's every nuance.

At the sound of the word, Dean's gaze shifted to Sam and his younger brother stared back mortified. Bobby could have sworn a whole conversation took place in the few seconds that the boy's eyes were locked on each other and then Sam ended it by looking away.

The car fell silent and Dean seemed faintly relieved at Sam's lack of reaction. He slouched back against the seat and licked his lips to try and wipe the taste of blood out of his mouth. _Not to worry pup, there's lots more where that came from. _

"Holy water," Dean croaked as his chest began to heave anxiously.

Bobby looked back at Sam but the younger brother was transfixed, his face mashing into worry and shame. Dean began to fidget like an addict, hands simultaneously pushing and then pulling at Bobby. The experienced hunter impatiently waved his hand at Sam to get him what Dean needed because he felt the tremors emanating from the young man's frame and he could tell a nuclear meltdown was threatening to erupt beneath his fingers.

Sam finally presented Bobby with a small flask and it took all of the older man's dexterity to open it without letting go of Dean`s shoulder. Bobby placed the container in Dean's jerky fingers and watched as the young man brought it to his lips and clumsily poured as much of the water down his throat as possible. Bobby could have sworn he was trying to drown in it. _Hah, there isn't enough holy water in the world to cleanse you, pup._

"I need more," Dean sputtered wetly as the empty vial fell away and the darkness in his eyes lingered and Bobby didn't know whether Dean meant he needed more holy water or more, as in something else.

"We'll get some," Bobby replied tentatively and Dean shuddered, fearful this assurance may never come to pass.

The ring of the Dean's cell phone caused all three of them to jump. Dean's eyes flicked from Sam to Bobby and then back again. Sam kept his eyes on his brother and then calmly turned off the phone before he shoved it deep into his pocket. "We need to go," he stated to no one in particular.

Dean turned to Bobby, his eyes begged for some sort of reassurance and guidance and someone to trust and Bobby felt a crushing pain at seeing the young man looking so alone and vulnerable.

The older hunter forced a half-hearted smile and nodded to Dean, "We should go," and although it was said as a statement, Bobby held his breath waiting for the young man's reaction.

Dean swallowed and looked back at Sam. _What are you gonna do Deano? Little brother's in cahoots with your buddies from Hell. _And Dean started to shiver.

"Easy, boy," Bobby murmured softly and felt the fear rising in Dean. "We'll figure this out, okay?" He didn't expect an answer he just hoped his words would calm the tremulous man. "Let's get somewhere safe."

_Where do you think you're going, Deano? _Alastair hissed angrily in Dean's head and a small sound like a growl caught in the back of Dean's throat and escaped his lips. Bobby froze, his insides turning to ice and his hunter's instincts kicking in to verify if something was in the car.

Dean started to breathe heavily, started to lose control of his fear and his mind was screaming at him to run.

Bobby eyed Sam, silently questioning him on what to do before Dean lost it completely. Sam felt his own chest tightening at the thought of Dean's terror resurfacing and after a moment of indecision he leaned forward, hands up in a sign of surrender.

"Dean?" Sam tried to get his brother's attention. "Dean, listen to me."

Dean pulled away pressing himself as far back as possible from Sam. He turned and tried to wrench Bobby's hand off his shoulder.

"Sh…sh…" Bobby hushed, slowly removing his touch from Dean. "We're not gonna hurt you, kiddo." And Bobby backed off trying to make Dean understand that he was not going to hold him down or trap him.

"Don't call me that," Dean said remembering how _he_ had used that name. And Dean closed his eyes and pressed himself into the door, away from Bobby.

"We just wanna talk, ok?" Bobby whispered and hoped Sam would follow his lead.

"Dean, tell us what you need." Sam asked and waited for a response from his brother.

Dean's face contorted in confusion because although he understood the words he couldn't remember the last time what he needed mattered. _Stupid, stupid boy. How many times do I have to show you that you belong to me and you don't get a say in anything? _And a stabbing pain ripped at Dean's insides and the young man grimaced and folded over gasping and clutching at his abdomen.

"Dean," Sam yelled worriedly and reached out to his brother but stopped short of touching him. He looked at Bobby helplessly, unsure what to do next.

Bobby had seen enough. "Dean, can you hear me?" He grabbed the young man's shoulder and pulled him up to look in his face. If Dean heard him, he showed no signs of being able to respond. Bobby wrapped his arms around the young hunter and tried to pull him to a sitting position. Dean was unable to straighten up, his mind focused solely on trying to breathe through the pain cutting him in half.

"Sam. Drive, now." Bobby barked and Sam jumped into action, put the car in gear and sped off.

"Do we need a hospital?" Sam asked.

Dean's eyes were tightly clenched and his breathing was ragged. Bobby could feel the young hunter's heart racing like the wings of a wild bird. Bobby looked up at Sam via the rear view mirror but didn't have an answer.

"N-no," Dean rasped between moans. "No, no hospitals...take me," Dean could barely get the words out, "take me, t-t-to sacred gr-ground," and the young hunter coughed and gagged and Bobby saw red staining his teeth and tried to comfort Dean as best he could.

Sam understood and steered the car towards the nearest town but no matter how fast he drove, he couldn't block out the sound of his brother begging for someone to make this stop.

TBC...


	5. A Tangled Mess

Big My Secret

Chapter 5 – A Tangled Mess

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. Discovered the show by accident a few months ago and was fascinated by the story of the two brothers. This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

Thank you to all the reviewers, followers and readers.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

Sam swung the Impala sharply to the left and into the narrow driveway before bringing the car to a sudden stop. The young man gripped the steering wheel tightly and peered up through the dirty windshield thinking how he had almost missed the small church as he raced along the darkened country road.

"We're here," Sam exhaled anxiously and he could only pray this is what his brother needed. When he didn't get a response he peered into the rear view mirror, saw the top of Bobby's cap and could hear his soft murmurings but not a word from Dean. Sam twisted around to look for himself. He was not calmed by the sight that confronted him; Dean was lying across the seat and desperately holding on to the older man's wrist. He had stopped asking Bobby not to let him fall, stopped begging for someone to stop ripping out his insides, stopped asking for mercy, stopped promising to do better. Instead Dean's eyes had become bottomless pits of pain.

"Bobby, what should we do?" Sam asked nervously. The older man was engrossed with the plight of the man hanging on to him for dear life. "Bobby," Sam called more sharply this time, "We're here."

"Got it," the older man huffed in irritation without looking at Sam. Bobby had his hands full; Dean was now pushing himself up wanting to get out of the car. "Alright, son, alright we'll get there, easy now," he whispered to Dean before he turned to Sam, "Ok, let's give this a try," he said.

Sam stared at the older hunter and saw the worry and fear in his eyes which probably mirrored his own.

"Lemme check it out." Sam said and felt for his gun and knife before he anxiously yanked the Impala's door open and stepped out into the warm night air. The young hunter huffed out a breath and focused his mind on the task at hand, circled the area and looked for anything that would indicate there was a trap waiting for them. It was clear the old building had not been used in a long time and he cast an uneasy glance towards the Impala before pulling on the door and entering.

Sam slowly made his way around the inside, checking the confessionals, verifying each row of pews, uncovering any fallen chunks of wood. The young hunter had made it half way to the front before Bobby came stumbling in with Dean hanging on, coughing and spitting blood and unable to catch his breath. Both men fell heavily to the floor. Bobby cursed and quickly grabbed at Dean to check on him and pull him off the hard floor.

"We're inside, Dean," Bobby wheezed out to the young hunter in response to some unspoken demand. Dean stared up at him and the older man confirmed, "We're in…ok? We're in now…"

Dean directed a confused look around trying to situate himself, his eyes locked into the cross at the front before he began to crawl towards the altar.

"Easy, son," Bobby murmured and steadied the young hunter as he tried to help him up.

Sam rushed back instinctively and reached out to support his brother. Dean flinched but there was no reproach in his expression, just stubborn determination to get to that altar.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled but continued to half drag, half carry his ailing brother towards the front. This was still new territory for Sam, this mistrust and fear Dean had of him. As brothers they had always been able to work things out but maybe this was something that was too big to repair. Sam hoped he was wrong. The younger brother gently sat Dean against the stone altar and watched as his brother closed his eyes in pain and exhaustion.

Bobby came forward and knelt next to Dean.

"I'll finish securing the area," Sam said and stepped away from the two men. The older hunter nodded to no one in particular and brushed his hand against Dean's cheek. Dean was burning with fever.

"Son, you hear me?" Bobby murmured worriedly. Dean moaned and his eyes widened suddenly as he clutched at this abdomen before tilting forward and vomiting a stomach full of blood. Dean clung to Bobby, unable to keep himself upright without the older man's support and Bobby stared helplessly at the dark puddle by their knees.

"M…b-better," Dean stuttered and closed his eyes as he slumped against Bobby who had no idea how hacking up your insides was better. He manoeuvred the young hunter back to a sitting position and tried to steady him so he wouldn't tip over. Dean's hands clutched weakly at Bobby's jacket and his head lolled aimlessly from one side to the other.

"Can you sit up, son?" Bobby asked gently.

Dean's eyes fluttered and he tried to nod but his body did not comply and he listed over to the right.

"I'll take that as a no," Bobby said and laid Dean on his side. The older man carefully removed and folded his jacket into the semblance of a pillow and slipped it between the older Winchester and the stone floor. Bobby let out a breath and pushed back his cap and scratched his head in confusion at how the young man could have suddenly spiked a fever in the time it took them to make it from the car to the church. It took a minute or two but Dean's frantic breathing slowed and his body began to lose some of the tension from the constant pain.

Sam returned, stood nearby and stared at the wet patch of blood, his eyes mired in apprehension as to whether this was such a good idea after all.

"Doesn't make sense," Bobby mumbled and pushed his hand against Dean's forehead. "He's burning up."

"Maybe we need a hospital," Sam said and knelt next to his brother.

Dean's eyes opened all glassy and fearful and he signalled no with a slight shake of his head.

"Ok, son. We'll stay." Bobby said to calm Dean.

Sam sighed in frustration and worry. "I don't know. Bobby," He whispered and guided Bobby up and away from his brother. "What are we supposed to do here?" Sam looked around the empty church.

Dean overheard and muttered vaguely, "He, he won't c..come here."

Sam turned and eyed his brother, "Who won't come?"

Dean stared at Sam, an unsaid accusation hanging between them. "Him," was the only thing Dean offered.

Bobby tried to break this staring deadlock between the boys. "Tell us, Dean. We wanna help," the older hunter motioned between himself and Sam.

Dean coughed out a tight, mirthless laugh and then his eyes hardened to stone causing Bobby's neck to prickle in fear. "You can't," Dean whispered darkly.

A dreadful ache filled Bobby and he turned away from Dean not wanting to see the hopelessness in the young man. "I gotta make a call," He muttered before walking away.

Sam settled uneasily next to his brother. He watched as Dean wrapped his arms around himself, closing himself off from the world, or at least from his brother.

* * *

Bobby ushered a dark haired woman into the church. "Yeah, things went south quickly. Don't know exactly how or why." Bobby told his friend. "Then we ended up here and we could really use your help."

"You know me, Bobby, anything for an old friend," She grinned warmly trying to calm the older hunter, "Let me see what I can figure out, okay?" And patted his arm encouragingly.

Bobby nodded and guided her towards Sam and Dean.

"Sam, this is Pamela, my contact."

Pamela extended a hand towards the younger Winchester. "Nice to meet you, Sam."

Sam got up quickly and cast a worried glance towards his brother before accepting Pamela's hand and returning the greeting.

Bobby knelt down. "Dean," he called softly. He waited for the young hunter to open his eyes. "I have someone I want you to meet," Bobby added as he looked up to Pamela. The psychic knelt next to Bobby and into Dean's line of vision. "This is Pamela. She's a psychic." Dean stared in confusion. "She can see things," Bobby added.

Dean shivered violently at these last words and shook his head.

"Dean, she's here to help," Bobby reassured the young man who was breathing heavily now.

"D-d-don't w-want h-her to s-see," Dean chattered and sat up, preparing to bolt.

"It won't hurt," Pamela smiled, "Promise," and held up her hand in as if swearing on a bible.

"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't look," and pushed himself away his face flushed in shame.

Pamela heard the warning in Dean's tone and felt the flutter of danger in the pit of her stomach and wondered what had him so scared.

"I won't look if you don't want me to," Pamela agreed before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The psychic was immediately assaulted by a burning sensation running through her entire body. A flash of dark, bloody images invaded her brain and profound emotions flooded into her and threatened to pull her apart. She let go of the young man quickly, almost falling back.

Dean flinched away as well, his whole body trembling fiercely. Sam grabbed his brother's arm to support and still him.

"Easy, Dean, no one's going to do something you don't want. Okay?" Sam held his brother lightly allowing him to get away if he really wanted. Dean didn't try.

Dean felt the guilt and shame welling up in his body and he turned to Pamela. He didn't want her to know what he'd done, "Don't…," he mumbled but the sentence died in his throat as he realized she had seen too much.

Bobby stared at Pamela questioningly. The psychic stood up and placed her hand over her heart to try and slow it down. "I...shouldn't..." She started haltingly, staring into Dean's fearful eyes, unsure she understood what she had seen or felt and whether she should divulge any of it.

Bobby followed his friend as she walked away. "What happened?" He asked worriedly.

Pamela shrugged regretfully, hugged herself and steadied her breathing.

"Pamela, you need to tell me what you saw," Bobby pleaded.

She knew her friend was right. She had come here to assist and not telling Bobby wouldn't help anyone. She didn't know how to put it into words just yet. "I felt…others."

"What others?" Bobby asked perplexed.

Pamela looked around awkwardly. "Others, but not others," She added cryptically.

"You're not making any sense, Pamela." Bobby said and took her by the arm to move her further away from Dean.

"I don't understand it myself," Pamela offered nervously, her voice thin.

"What did you see?"

Pamela looked back at Dean, her eyes scrutinizing him almost unbelievingly. "A tangled mess."

* * *

Sam awoke with a start and instinctively felt for the gun tucked into his waist band. He looked around the small church for any sign of trouble. Bobby and Pamela were stretched out along some pews, their soft breaths indicating they were finally asleep. Dean was curled up on the floor, his thin frame shivering under the heat of the fever, his eyes focused on the door at the entrance.

Sam moved closer and adjusted the blanket they had thrown over his brother.

"Dean," he whispered tentatively and then felt his brother's forehead. His hand came away slicked in sweat and warmed by the heat emanating from Dean's body. Sam fumbled for the first aid kit, popped open the pill bottle and shook two Tylenol into his palm. He felt around for the water bottle and then turned back to his brother.

"Dean, can you sit up?"

Dean moaned and tucked his arms closer to his body.

"You need to take some more pills."

Dean heard the worry in his brother's voice and turned towards Sam, his eyes a liquid pool of heat. "He, he won't c-come..." He tried to reassure his brother.

Sam began to doubt whether Dean was lucid with all this crazy talk about 'him'.

"Here, take these," Sam offered, "They'll help with the fever and maybe you'll be able to get some sleep."

Dean pulled himself up to a sitting position and leaned heavily against the altar. He steadied his breathing and eyed his brother uneasily. Alastair's words echoed in his brain. "The g-guilty get no, no s-sleep," he whispered. It was Alastair's way to end the fleeting rest periods between torture sessions.

Sam froze at his brother's admission, an admission that implied something dark and sinister and Sam didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to ask his brother what it meant.

The silence between the two men caused the room to still once again and an uncomfortable stalemate unfolded. Minutes went by with neither brother making a sound and eventually Dean turned away, guilt-ridden. Sam watched his brother's restless body shivering and shuddering and some moments later, Dean's throat working convulsively seemingly either trying to keep something in or get it out.

"Why'd you do it, Sammy?" Dean rasped his throat a fiery furnace.

Sam almost broke open at the sound of his brother's voice so alone and accusatory. The brother that had sacrificed everything for him, that knew him better than he knew himself somehow knew about the demon blood and couldn't trust him and Sam needed to make things right.

"I can explain," he started hesitantly.

And that was all the proof Dean needed to confirm his suspicions. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes not needing to hear anything else. Dean felt the betrayal well up in his throat and close it tightly. "How am I supposed to trust you now, huh?" He eked out.

Sam edged closer and when Dean didn't move away or flinch he grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around Dean's shoulders and held it there for a few moments.

"You can trust me, Dean. Always." Sam whispered contritely and felt his brother relax into him. "And I'll always trust you," Sam added. No sooner had he spoken these words then he felt Dean stiffen. Sam tightened his grip on his brother, to provide a solid respite for Dean's doubt and fear but his older brother would have none of it, the moment was lost and the gap between them widened once again.

"You shouldn't," Dean said coldly and Sam heard the warning that was not meant as a threat but to protect him from harm. Dean pushed himself away and leaned back against the altar exhausted and alone, once again.

* * *

It was the burning sensation on his right arm which woke Dean. The heat from his arm was pulsating through him, bathing him in sweat and blazing him dry at the same time. He felt confused, as if time and space were undulating into one another and there was no past, no future, no here, no there, everything was this moment. Sam loomed over him, face furrowed in worry, gripping his bicep tightly, asking him something he couldn't understand.

He felt something beating in his chest but it wasn't his heart, it was someone else's. Dean tried to get up, tried to find his footing but his body felt strange, not his own and he fell forward into Bobby and Sam's arms.

Pamela watched from close by, fingers clutching at her tee shirt, breathing hard and trying to slow it all down. A small part of what Dean was feeling was coming through her body and it was like nothing she had ever felt before. She was afraid but at the same time exhilarated.

Sam turned and looked behind him at the entrance of the church. Someone was there. He pulled the gun and the knife out and signalled to Bobby to stay with Dean. Sam moved stealthily towards the back of the church while Bobby pulled out his own knife and nodded to Pamela to move in closer, not to be alone and exposed. Pamela knelt next to the pair.

Sam pressed himself against the inside of the door and waited patiently for whoever was on the other side to make a move. The church door cracked open and a small sliver of light broke through and stretched across the floor until it hit the altar. Bobby pulled Dean closer.

A small hand gripped the wooden door and pulled it slightly more open, it was obvious the door was too heavy for whoever was on the other side. Sam didn't let his guard down and signalled to Bobby that he wasn't waiting any longer. After receiving confirmation from the older hunter, Sam jumped out, grabbed the hand at the door and pulled a child forward and into the church.

The boy was no older than five with short dark hair and large brown eyes. He didn't struggle or try to get away from Sam. In fact he didn't look frightened at all just surprised at the gigantic man holding on to him.

"Who are you?" Sam asked without loosening his grip.

The boy looked around the church until his eyes locked onto to Dean. "I'm Billy," he replied as if this fact should have some significance to Sam.

"Let him go," Dean ordered. Everyone turned to stare at Dean who was pushing himself away from Bobby and to an upright position.

"Dean, we don't know anything about him," Sam warned as he watched his brother sway.

"I know everything about him," Dean whispered, "Let him go," And his voice caught on the last word.

Sam saw the overriding pain and love in his brother's eyes and couldn't understand what kind of connection his brother had with this boy. Bobby made to get up and but Pamela placed her arm on his to stop him. Her eyes were unafraid and brimming with longing.

"Let him be," She advised Bobby and then looked at Sam and nodded for him to let the boy go.

Sam hesitated and when Billy looked at Dean, Sam saw something he hadn't seen in a long time, it could only be described as a look of devotion and adulation. It reminded him of the way Dean looked at their Dad when he came back from a hunt, grateful that he was alive and ready to take care of him.

Sam released his grip on the boy and Billy calmly walked towards Dean. The older Winchester tried to control his breathing but his emotions had overtaken him and his bones felt rubbery and he fell to his knees. Billy stopped before Dean and offered a small smile before pulling back his sleeve and revealing a burn mark on his arm.

Dean tried to swallow every emotion threatening to explode out of his chest and tentatively reached out to Billy, placing his overheated hand over the young boy's arm. Their limbs intertwined and Dean's hand closed over the boy's burn mark fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

And that's when the dam broke and Dean realized he got something back he thought was lost forever. The feverish hunter crumbled forward into the arms of this child, his thin frame racked by sobs of gratefulness and love and adoration and he cried and cried like he might never stop again.

TBC...


	6. Reunited

Big My Secret

Chapter 6 – Reunited

A/N: This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.

I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.

Thank you to all the reviewers, followers and readers.

This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.

* * *

"We can't just sit around and do nothing," Sam hissed. The young man was like a caged tiger, his senses overloaded, his gut in knots because everything felt wrong and nothing added up.

Bobby turned and watched Billy curl up on Dean's lap, finger the amulet with one hand and hold onto Dean's wrist with the other. The older hunter huffed and turned back to Sam.

"Boy, that's not what I said," he explained and tried to keep the young man calm. "Your brother's not in his right mind. We have to think before we act or we'll only make things worse." Bobby scrubbed at his face trying to rub out the worry lines he was sure had multiplied tenfold during the last couple of days. "At least he's calm right now and we don't know what we're dealing with here. Let's not rock the boat until we find out more," the older hunter groused as Sam's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"My brother just got out of Hell and we don't know how and why and then this kid shows up. He can't just have materialized out of thin air," Sam said angrily. The youngest Winchester couldn't understand why Bobby wasn't more worked up and why they shouldn't just grab the kid and drag him away from Dean. Sam glanced over at his brother and saw the emotional toll the last hour had taken on him. Dean's face was flushed from the fever and what seemed like an endless crying jag. His brother, who avoided what he called chick flick moments like the plague, had practically sobbed himself dry. And truth be told, Sam wasn't only worried and scared because he had never seen his brother in such a state but he was jealous, jealous of this kid and the hold he had on Dean.

Bobby looked behind Sam and motioned to Pamela to join them. The dark haired woman moved closer, her eyes still scrutinizing Dean and Billy, her face a portrait of serenity.

"Well, what do you think?" Bobby asked gruffly.

Pamela gave them a wan smile unsure how to begin. "There's a very strong connection..."

"Yeah, we can see that," Sam interrupted impatiently, "How do we break it?"

"Break it?" Pamela looked at Sam incredulously. "You can't break it," she stated, "They're…I don't know…they're…somehow…alike..."

"You mean like brothers, fathers and sons?" Bobby asked puzzled and he didn't miss the way Sam flinched at the suggestion.

"No, not like that," Pamela shook her head and looked away searching for the right words, "It's something closer than that," she breathed out almost in awe.

"It doesn't matter what it is," Sam interjected and pulled his hair back nervously. "There's something wrong with this...it's not right." Sam's eyes were begging Bobby to listen to him and forget what the psychic had said.

The old hunter felt like he was stuck between a rock named Sam and a hard place named Pamela and no matter what, he had to do what was right for Dean, except he just couldn't wrap his mind around where the truth lay or how to find it.

"Go on," Bobby requested of Pamela and Sam threw up his hands in frustration and walked away.

"He's wrong," Pamela whispered as her eyes swam with wonderment. "Sam's wrong. There's never been anything more right."

* * *

Billy fingered the amulet around Dean's neck and smiled up at the hunter.

"I like this," he said pleased with the feel of the metal under his fingers. Dean pulled the boy closer as he relaxed and leaned back against the altar. His entire body was thrumming from pure joy as if every cell in his body was radiating his happiness and a deep, unadulterated love.

"You want to wear it?" Dean asked and Billy smiled widely and nodded his head.

"Go ahead," the young man inclined his head so Billy could easily remove the necklace and put it on. The boy looked down at it as it hung low on his chest and then gave Dean a proud smile and continued to finger the talisman. The hunter stroked Billy's hair and looked him over, his heart seeing what was not visible to the others.

"'I like it here...with you," Billy said softly.

Dean gazed at the boy and wrapped his arm around his tiny shoulders. The hunter needed to feel the warmth of this being, needed the contact, needed to be joined across their two separate bodies. It was clear now, so painfully clear, what Dean had been searching for his whole life was right here, with him and he finally understood why he could never fill the void in his heart, why he couldn't fill it with his brother or his father or the memory of his mother, couldn't forget about it with alcohol or hunting or food or sex. None of these things were ever enough to stop the pain or the feelings of inadequacy or the sense that something, that some part of him was lost.

And there, in Hell, in the worst place imaginable, Dean found what had been missing, found the soul that was shaped exactly like the hole in his being, found his missing piece.

Dean first saw this soul behind a veil, beyond his reach but in its purest form – as a brilliant flash of light and its brightness had obliterated the darkness of Hell and its heat had seared the edges of his void. They had recognized each other immediately and that moment became a promise, an eternal vow that they would somehow find each other, again. And then it was over and the wrath of Hell came down on him and Dean was dragged away, engulfed in darkness, blinded, suffocated, torn and shredded as Alastair tried to carve the memory of that moment right out of his being.

"How did you get out?" Dean asked, pushing those dark thought aside and needing to know what he himself could not fully remember.

Billy looked up into bright green eyes and pulled back his sleeve displaying the burn mark on his arm. "You pulled me out."

Dean touched it, fitting his hand over it. "But how?" he exhaled heavily before he was racked by a dry cough. Billy watched the young man attentively; a worrying look creased his features at the sound emanating from Dean. The hunter got himself under control and licked his lips as he nodded to the boy to go on. Billy waited a moment or two before continuing.

"He came…to get you...," and the boy reached up and clasped Dean's shoulder to show him.

Dean was overcome by the images of wings and the horrible sounds of shrieking. He recalled the sensation of being pulled apart, of being caught in a mighty struggle. He recalled how the other soul had reappeared, in another flash of light, this time so much brighter, so much closer and without a barrier to keep them apart they reached out for each other, simultaneously, instinctively knowing how to connect, how to join. Against the searing pain of this unification, Dean held on to this light, held on to this soul and would not let go even if it meant falling back into Hell.

Dean was hit with a wave of dizziness at the memory; his heart hammering rapidly and his lungs aching with each breath. Billy looked up at the hunter, his body feeling the same emotions as the grown man and he gripped Dean's wrist more strongly as he struggled draw air into his lungs.

"Don't...let...go" the boy huffed, his eyes widening with each shallow breath and Dean recalled how Billy had said it to him when they rose up from the darkness.

"I won't...ever," Dean replied weakly and pulled the boy into his chest. With those words, the hunter felt Billy's small body meld into his, perfectly. And all that mattered now was that after a lifetime of waiting, they were reunited and were finally whole, the way it was meant to be.

* * *

Pamela walked towards the altar. She felt like she was intruding on the boy and the hunter as they sat huddled against each other. She could sense their need to be close, to be touching, to unite, if that was the right word. She turned back to look at Bobby who jutted out his chin and egged her on. He wanted her to find out what she could about the child. She looked down at Dean holding the boy, his eyes closed and his pale face glistening with sweat.

"Dean?" She called gently. The young man tightened his hold and then opened his eyes slowly. It took him a few moments to focus and find the voice that was speaking to him. He tried to sit up straighter and it caused him to cough, deep and dry folding him over. When it was over he leaned back against the altar and wiped his mouth against his sleeve.

"You ok?" Pamela face furrowed with concern.

Dean nodded but his breaths were harsh and laboured and Billy rested his hand against the man's chest. Again, the psychic felt like an intruder watching the small boy somehow calm the hunter with his presence and touch. Pamela knelt next to the young man and placed her hand over his forehead and she had a vision of swirling darkness.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Pamela asked. The young man meekly tried to push the psychic away but only managed to hang on to her arm as he coughed hoarsely.

"It's the sickness," Billy said worriedly.

"What sickness?"

Billy scooted to Dean's side to help keep him upright. "Dust sickness…," he stated and then added, "Everyone had it."

"Who's everyone?"

Billy's eyes darkened and he sighed loudly, "All of us…my sister… my brother," then almost as an afterthought, "Me too," and he looked at Pamela with unfathomable anguish which belied his young age.

"What happened to them?"

Billy tightened his grip on Dean and pressed his body against the young hunter. "They're dead," the boy whispered softly.

"What about you?" And Pamela wondered why she had asked when it was obvious the boy was fine.

Billy gazed up at Pamela but didn't speak; he just stared, his eyes willing her to understand something she couldn't really comprehend, willing her to understand that his fate had been the same as his siblings. The psychic's heart constricted and she looked back at Dean wondering if this was a warning. Pamela motioned for Bobby to come over.

"We have to cool him down," she told the older man as he neared.

Bobby quickly knelt next to Dean and tried to get the sick hunter to focus on him, "Dean?" He said and patted his cheek. The young man tried to keep his eyes open but he was having difficulty breathing and his throat was tight and dry he began to cough again. "Ok, I gotcha," the older man muttered as he held up Dean during his coughing fit.

"I'll get some water," Pamela said as she rose and headed back to the pews. The young woman rummaged through some duffel bags. "We're out," she said and held up the empties.

"Sam's gone to get some food and supplies, he should be back soon," the hunter replied.

"I thought I saw a water pump out back," Pamela remembered, "Maybe, it still works." She gathered some bottles and headed for the door when she stopped and turned back. "Billy, do you wanna help?" She showed him the bottles and the boy seemed torn between wanting to be of assistance and staying with Dean.

"Go ahead, kid. I'll make sure he's okay." The older hunter said reassuringly but understood Pamela's intent to get the boy alone.

Billy hesitated before he leaned towards Dean and whispered something in his ear. Pamela didn't miss the way he looked at the young man and she felt the strength of the bond between these two. She waited for Billy to join her and handed him a bottle as they exited the church.

Once outside, they noticed Sam had returned and was standing by the Impala.

"You're back," she said and walked towards the young man but her skin tingled in apprehension when she spotted the bag of salt on the ground by his feet and saw the way Sam scrutinized Billy.

"That's him," The hunter said over his shoulder and a dark haired woman revealed herself by stepping out from behind a tree.

"He's not demon," she stated casually and stared at the boy curiously.

"We'll see about that," Sam muttered not because he didn't trust Ruby's judgement but because he couldn't figure out this kid.

"Who is she?" Pamela asked and looked towards the other woman.

"She's a friend...she can see things." Sam said mockingly and then turned his attention back to the boy. "Hey, Billy," he motioned, "Can you step over here," and pointed to a carefully constructed salt circle.

"We came to get water for Dean. Your brother's not feeling well," Pamela tried to get Sam to forget about any tests he made have prepared for Billy but the child had nothing but trust for Sam and he didn't hesitate to follow the hunter's directive and made his way inside the circle without a problem. Ruby let out a derisive snort as if to say 'told you so'.

Billy watched the other woman intently and Sam reached out for the boy, touching his shoulder to get his attention. The hunter pulled out a flask from his jacket and offered it to the child.

"Here, try some of this," Sam said calmly. The hunter kept his hand on the knife tucked into the back of his pants as the boy sipped at the holy water; no smoke, no burning, no reaction from the kid except to crinkle his nose at the taste and wipe the back of his shirt sleeve across his mouth before handing the flask back to Sam.

"Sam, please..."Pamela pleaded, sensing this was not going to go well. The hunter ignored her and crouched down before the boy.

"Hey buddy, I just wanna ask you a few questions." Billy nodded earnestly.

"Where are your parents?"

The boy's eyes saddened and he shrugged. "I don't know…."

"Can you tell me where you live? Maybe we could find them."

Billy fidgeted, "I'm not from this place...not from now." Sam ran his fingers through his hair; he didn't know how to interpret Billy's answer. The hunter tried a different tact.

"How do you know Dean?"

The boy looked down at his feet and toed the salt line timidly. "I knew him from before."

"Before what?" Sam asked puzzled. Once again, things were not adding up.

Billy looked around his eyes scanning for something then turned back to Sam, "Before..."

"Before here?" The hunter tried to get a more definitive answer.

Billy nodded and added, "Before now."

Pamela looked at the boy and finally started to put the pieces together. "They knew each other...before...before they were born." Billy's eyes brightened at her statement and then he simply smiled.

Sam turned to her in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't belong here," Ruby explained as she walked towards them.

The boy's face clouded over as he watched the demon approach and he looked behind at the door of the church. "I want Dean," he whispered to Pamela.

Sam held up his hand and Ruby stopped immediately. The hunter gripped the boy's shoulders to calm him. "Hey buddy, it's ok. Can you tell me where you were, before here?"

The boy took a shaky breath before looking down at his feet. "Before here?" He asked questioningly and Sam nodded. Billy let out an audible sigh, "It was a dark place," he whispered softly then looked fearfully at Ruby.

Pamela felt the terror surge into her throat like an unformed scream. She involuntarily took a step back and felt her breathing speed up in time with the boy's and her blood freeze inside her veins. She sensed that Billy wanted to run back inside the church but Sam grabbed the boy's wrist before he could bolt. A small whimper escaped the child as his eyes flitted between Sam and Ruby.

"Sam, you're scaring him." Pamela said, moving forward and placing her hand around Billy's shoulder, feeling oddly protective and responsible for this child.

"Are you going to send us back?" Billy huffed tremulously. Before Sam could say or do anything, the door of the church flew open and Dean was standing there, holding his chest and breathing hard, his face mired in fear. Bobby spilled out behind the frightened hunter, confusion lining his features and then understanding at the sight before him.

Dean's eyes darted from Billy to Sam to Ruby and the look of betrayal on his brother's face nearly cut Sam in half.

"Dean...I," Sam started.

"No one...is going anywhere," Dean growled for all to hear. _My, my, aren't using strong words, Deano. Don't make promises you can't keep._

The psychic heard the voice in her own head and recognized it. It was the same voice from her dream the night before. A dream so dark that her consciousness had refused to let it surface, until now. Pamela swallowed fearfully as she recalled that she had dreamt of a place where the air was thick and suffocating, had dreamt of a place of obscurity so heavy it swallowed you until there was nothing left. She had dreamt of a landscape littered with broken souls, tortured beyond recognition. She had dreamt of the darkest place imaginable, of fear so deep and so wide that no one could escape it, outrun it or outlast it. She had dreamt of Dean, there in that place and of something inconceivable, something impossible emerging; a soul, unscathed, made of light and hope and love. And in her dream, the darkness took what it wanted and it wanted everything, wanted to extinguish this light, crush hope and defeat love. And in order to do that, it had to tear Dean apart. And it did and Pamela now knew this was not a dream, this had happened and the danger was real and it was here.

"Dean...please," Sam stared at his brother remorsefully knowing he'd made a mistake by bringing Ruby here.

"Let him go." Dean hissed and Sam stood slowly and released his hold on the child as did Pamela. But the boy didn't run to Dean, he stood his ground until Sam looked back at him.

"He always chooses you," Billy said with heart-rending honesty and Sam heard the unfinished question, 'why can't you choose him?' The young hunter had no answer to that, no answer to how this boy knew them so well. Billy turned and ran towards Dean, slid behind the hunter and held on to the hem of Dean's shirt. Dean snaked his hand back feeling for the boy and relaxing only when he touched him.

_Let's see where were we...oh yes, a little more blood is in order._

Dean blinked furiously at the pain boring into his brain and he looked down to see blood dropping lazily onto his jacket and the ground below. The hunter swiped at his nose, smearing blood messily across his cheek and coughing wetly as the thick liquid slid down his throat.

_Having a little trouble breathing, pup? Oh, not to worry I'll make sure you're around long enough to watch your boy being cut wide open._

Dean's heart constricted at these words and he felt himself swaying dangerously. He reached out to find purchase, to avoid falling over and Billy moved forward, allowing the hunter to place his hands on his shoulders to regain his balance.

"Easy, son." Bobby breathed in his best soothing voice from behind the hunter. "Why don't we just go back inside and talk this out?"

Dean turned slowly to look at the older man as he gulped air and he shook his head no. Bobby took a step forward but stopped when Dean stepped back. The young man had never been frightened of him and this was all the proof he needed of how sick Dean was.

_They can't be trusted, pup. They're going to deliver you and your boy right back to me._

"Son, you're not feeling well." Bobby said as he watched Dean's jacket darken with blood. "Let me help you," Bobby offered and carefully moved forward and reached out. Dean moved with surprising speed; grabbed the older hunter's gun from his waistband, spun behind him and hooked his arm around his neck in one fluid motion. Bobby felt the gun pressed against his cheek and the young man's hot breath pounding into the side of his face.

Bobby knew he could take the kid if he wanted but he'd never be able to regain Dean's trust, the trust Sam did a bang up job of throwing out the window. The older man locked eyes with Sam warning him to stay back and not do anything stupid. Sam acknowledged him by holding up his hands in a sign of surrender.

Dean stood there with Bobby at his mercy and everyone staring and waiting for his next move.

"Dean, we'll do it your way, ok?" Bobby spoke slowly.

_How convenient...they'll do it your way now that you have the gun...do it Deano...do it just the way I taught you, boy._

Dean's chest tightened and his body stiffened at that tone of voice which made him feel like he was back in the pit, knife in hand and some poor soul on the rack. He hadn't wanted to do those things, he didn't but he knew better than to cross _Alastair_, knew that every suggestion was an order and knew oh so well, that there were consequences for disregarding such orders.

Dean tightened his grip and clung to Bobby like a lifeline, but even he was no match for the pull _Alastair_ had on him.

The world seemed to stop and every sound was amplified just like _down there; _his own stuttering breath was like a roar to his ears and Bobby's heartbeat reverberated through his whole being. He could feel the world closing in on him as A_lastair_ clicked his tongue like a clock counting down time. _Do it..._

The hunter felt his heart racing and his muscles trembling because he was powerless to stop this, completely and utterly powerless. He closed his eyes certain he was no longer in control of his own body, knew it when he carefully placed his finger on the hammer of the gun, knew it when he drew it back slowly and deliberately. _Do it..._

TBC...


End file.
